


Touch Starvation

by grossferatu



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Creeper Elias Bouchard, Cuddling & Snuggling, Eye Licking, Eye Sex, Eye Trauma, Force-Feeding, M/M, Size Kink, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:02:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21974020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grossferatu/pseuds/grossferatu
Summary: Elias thinks Jon has been starving himself for too long, and maybe needs the touch of his own kind. [Meaning Elias.]Heed the tags!Reviews:"Why do I find this hot?"
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Jonathan Sims, Martin Blackwood/Elias Bouchard, Martin Blackwood/Elias Bouchard/Jonathan Sims, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 12
Kudos: 185





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The pupil is a hole.

Jon's lips are bloodless as his eyes narrow at Elias. "Excuse me?" he demands more than asks with the care of a rankled cat.

Elias's smile is lazy, stolen eyes fixed on Jon's. 

"Contact is important, Archive," he says, rising from behind his desk. "It reminds humans of their humanity." His smile widens. "I want to test out a theory of mine." Jon has never seen him like this.

Jon's eyes widen. "Are you going to... cuddle me to death?" His hands grip the side of his chair. He could leave, he thinks. He just doesn't want to.

"Oh, no," Elias says. His expression doesn't change. Jon wonders, inanely, if his face will freeze that way. "I just want you to feel more comfortable in your body." 

He stands up and drapes himself across Jon's lap, a position that should be uncomfortable but instead just forces Jon to keep looking at his eyes.

"What is this supposed to be doing," Jon says, exasperated. Elias is taller than him. And his boss. And a lich. None of these things makes this situation good or appropriate.

Jon's body promptly decides his brain and all the bits of him that feel guilty all the time are being dramatic and the happy chemicals the skin to skin contact induces are... heady. 

"I hate you," Jon says, hating the warmth in his chest.

"Mm," Elias says. "This body has a sensitive scalp." He finally closes his eyes, shifting so his head is leaning against Jon's armpit. "Pet me."

Jon can't help himself. He laughs, both at the situation and at how Elias says this in the same tone of voice he asks for coffee.

He obeys, of course, because Elias is there and because it feels good to touch someone like him.

The thought freezes in his head, turning to crystal.

"Oh," he says. He shudders. 

"You are not alone," Elias murmurs. He sounds extremely pleased with himself. "Do me a favor, will you?" he asks. 

"What?" Jon asks.

"Don't starve yourself," Elias answers. He sighs contently. "You are not a person, anymore. You need other food." He smiles, again. "It's like cats and taurine," he finally says. "They're putting you on a vegan diet." He shifts again. "I think it's rather cruel of them."

"What do I call you?" Jon asks.

They've ended up on the floor. The chair is too small. Like this they can tangle their legs together. 

"Hm?" 

"You call me Archive, now," Jon says. He shudders. "I like how that... tastes. And you. What do I call you...?" He makes a frustrated little sound, kneading his fingers absently in the hollow in the side of Elias's knee. "Elias, Jonah, any names at all..." His breath hitches. "They aren't right." His kneading gets more insistent. "I need more _accurate_ words." He doesn't usually feel desire like this, but he wants to _know_ Elias.

"What I am is..." Elias, the bastard, interrupts himself to moan. Jon is still getting his hair. "I am Everything," he says. "And I am nothing." He's stopped breathing. So has Jon, who can feel his heartbeat slowing in his chest. "I made you, and you are..." His voice breaks. "Call me _mine_ and I will crown your head with stars." 

Jon feels his heart finally stop. "Mine," he says, exploring the word. "Mine to observe, to examine, to _know_ ." He shudders. "I like that. Like Archive. A _possession_." He feels like he's crossed over a line in his head, he just doesn't know which one. It feels permanent. 

Elias is warm in a way Jon has never been, and the more time they spend like this, Jon's arms around Elias's hips, their hands touching, Jon's nose against Elias's hair, the more he finds himself fitting in his own skin like he hasn't since before he met Mr. Spider. 

"Have you done this before?" Jon asks. 

"Gertrude refused, and the other archivists were never ready," Elias says. "You... I could see your ache from across the room." He leans back against Jon, taking the hand on his knee and taking it to his mouth. "Your sweat tastes like salt."

Jon giggles despite himself. Licking is...nice. 

"I've been so hungry," he confesses. "I've been good, and it's made me so hungry."

Elias makes a low noise in the back of his throat turning around so that he can face Jon and wrap his arms around his shoulders. "They've been starving you," Elias says, badly concealed anger in his voice. "I'll never starve you."

There should be some part of Jon that feels a last stab of guilt, a valiant effort on the part of the dregs of his humanity to stop what he can feel Elias is about to do. Instead, Jon mouths at Elias's neck, thinking about eyes and scars and the taste of blood.

"Feed," Elias finally orders, but it feels like a benediction. 

Jon shudders one final time and the worm scars open into dozens of shining eyes. They all look at Elias with adoration Jon no longer wants to repress.

"What do you See?" The question is basic, but Jon's gaze has turned inward, and he wants to know what he has become in _his_ , _mine_ eyes.

"My creation," Elias says. "My archive. My most precious thing, _mine_." He's working himself into a strange sort of frenzy. Even those few words have enough crazed awe-fear behind them that Jon's eyes--the primary ones on his face--roll back and he moans, revealing another eye tucked between his teeth.

Elias looks at it, something like surprise on his face, then licks it, experimentally. Jon almost screams at the sudden burst of arousal, even as the feedback from that eye goes wobbly and strange. 

"I see a blessed creation of our god," Elias says. He twists in Jon's lap, pushing him backwards onto the carpet, pressing his wrists down with his hands. Jon is too overwhelmed to do anything about it other than moan again. A human mind could not process everything he sees from all of his eyes, could not stitch together a painting of vision, but he does not have a human mind. His mind a wooden bowl full of molten rock that does not burn. 

"I see You," Elias says.

He's hard, Jon can feel it through his trousers, and Jon's own arousal traps him in his own body even more than his sight.

"I see how far you've come and I am humbled." Elias kisses the eye again, kisses all the eyes he can reach. 

"Gah," Jon manages, around the eye, around the thick, overwhelmed feeling in his chest. "I need..." His eyes, all of them, glisten with wetness. His mouth shuts and an eye socket in the hollow of his throat forms teeth and a tongue. "Take you."

Elias strokes his hair with sudden gentleness. "Your body doesn't know where to put things anymore, does it?" he asks. 

"Ah--" Jon whimpers. Half his eyes squeeze shut. "Ah, fuck me, please." His skin is too lose over his bones.

"Where?" Elias is teasing him, moving his hips back and forth with irritating gentleness, the idea of hardness between his legs forcing more arousal, more need, into Jon's overstuffed body. 

"Ahh... inside," Jon manages to say with a mouth on his face. "Here." He grinds his crotch up against the bulge in Elias's trousers. "This hole."

Elias is more than eager to strip Jon of his trousers and pants, and he lets out a noise of surprised pleasure as he notices a veined blue iris peeking out from under Jon's pubic hair. 

Jon blushes as Elias makes a broken noise of arousal. This is a new experience, even for him, and he shudders as he feels the Eye's narcissistic pleasure at being seen seeing flow through him.

Jon's clit is still accessible, so Elias presses his thumb against that, even as he uses his other hand to pull his cock out of his trousers. 

The other eyes on his pelvis all wink shut, leaving only that hole. 

Elias rubs the head of cock against this new eye, liking the wetness against the sensitive glans, and Jon screams again. As Elias keeps it there, the iris relaxes, opening the pupil wide enough that he can force his cock inside. 

"Gah," Jon 'says.' His thoughts appear to have stuck in his throat. 

"What does this look like, I wonder?" Elias asks, quickening the pace of his thrusts. He can feel very different muscles from a cunt pressing against his cock, trying uselessly to contract the eye against whatever nonsense visual input it must be giving Jon.

"You, you, you," Jon chants or maybe babbles, rendering the word meaningless. " _Mine_." Is he, or is the Eye, speaking in that moment? Elias cannot tell. 

Jon's field of vision is only Elias. He is overwhelmed, protected for now from seeing everything by seeing all of him. 

He is basking, or maybe deforming, under these physical sensations, when he notices a pair of eyes that don't quite belong to him, not like his or Elias's eyes. He hears the choked sound of surprise and he turns his head to look up at Martin, a pair of positively beatific smiles on his face. As Martin looks, his face reforms into something a little more human, a mouth where it should be, and only three eyes. 

"Watch," he pleads. "I want you to see it. Isn't it beautiful?" He loses however much of himself he's managed to collect to pleasure again, screaming for a final time as Elias spends himself inside Jon but lets his softening cock rest against the eye. His face collapses back into inhumanity. 

"I suppose I did cuddle you to death," Elias says, fondly. He looked over at Martin. "Don't worry," he says. "He's perfected, now." 

He rolls off Jon, leaving the archivist to shudder his way through a bizarre, alien orgasm. 

Martin, for his part, wants to leave. He doesn't want to see Jon like this, doesn't want to see Elias's dick. He doesn't want to think about how aroused he is at seeing this, at knowing that Jon is being eaten away from the inside and there is nothing Martin can do to stop it. 

Jon stands. He is naked, but the eyes close one by one until slowly he looks 'human' again. "Join us?" he asks. He walks unsteadily, like he's not sure what he's looking at or what balance is anymore.

Martin steps into the room. Elias smiles up at him from the ground. 

"Perfect," he says.

When Jon hugs him, Martin does not hear his heart.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now with 100% more Martin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The moral of the story is cuddling is good and important, and Elias's dick is a thing of beauty.

“What do you want me to do with this?” Martin asks. Jon has pushed him to straddle Elias’s hips after stripping him of most of his clothes with painful gentleness, and his gaze keeps moving between his boss’s slowly hardening dick and the small changes in his expression of pleasure. 

The part of him that very much belongs to his and Peter’s shared god is screaming at him to fade back into the Lonely and take a moment to think about what the fuck is happening, but that’s hard to do when he can feel the genuine happiness radiating off Jon. 

Martin hasn’t seen him like this in... ever, really, and he loves Jon enough that he physically cannot begrudge him joy, even if it is coming from Elias and this new-found (right?) ability to grow more orifices than...

Martin stops himself from thinking  _ necessary _ . The Eye  _ needs _ that overload of visual data, and Martin is reminded of the man who became one with the security system of his mall. 

“What do you think?” Elias asks. He moves his hips, then winces. “This body is getting old,” he murmurs, almost as an afterthought. “Taking it inside you would be nice, of course, but here I’m quite happy to let you take the lead, more or less.” He says this, pointedly not mentioning the hands holding Martin in place. His smile is self indulgent as he brings a hand down to press between Martin’s legs. “Unless you don’t like using that particular  _ orifice _ ,” he ducks his head, like he’s making a joke, “in which case, there are always others.”

“I can’t grow eyes,” Martin says a little too quickly.

Elias laughs fondly, other hand petting at Jon’s wrist. “I know,” he says. “Don’t worry. I was talking about your mouth.”

Martin can’t help the jolt of arousal in his stomach at the lazy way Elias says it, like he’s asking Martin to do some absolutely mundane task. Elias is looking up at him with an expression of completely unabashed desire, and Martin is hyperaware, as he often is here in the heart of the institute, of being the object of intense gaze. 

“I...” Martin stops, realizes that he is not in fact blushing, and twists awkwardly to take a moment to look at Jon. “Why am I not embarrassed?” He should want to cringe back into himself like he did just moments ago, but the longer he feels Jon’s chest pressed against his back and Elias’s hips and legs underneath the more solid he feels, the more present in the world. 

“I would call this the  _ observer effect _ if I wished to be crass and wonderfully inaccurate,” Elias says. “There is no judgement, only seeing, only... witnessing.”

He presses his thumb against Martin’s clit. “It’s alright, Martin. You’re not quite Peter’s and you’re not quite eyes, and voyeur and exhibitionist are two sides of the same desire.”

“Is this even exhibitionism?” Jon asks. He sounds almost... sleepy, presumably still sated from his own encounter with Elias. “You’re just forcing him to stay where you can See him.”

Another laugh from Elias, one that cuts off when Martin jerks. “Yes,” he says. “You like that Jon’s going to watch me get you off, don’t you?” 

He’s talking to Martin with a tone that Martin associates with daddy dom, which makes it all the more absurd when Martin ducks his head and says, “Yeah.” Now he wants his shame back. Shame is comfortable, and it lets him keep a distance from his own desires that he can’t right now, which means he has to think about how much he actually liked seeing Jon get fucked in the cunt-eyeball.

Elias smiles. "Good boy. Honesty is important." 

Martin blushes, finally, but not from embarrassment, but because praise feels good. "Thank you."

He takes Elias's cock in one hand, drawing back his foreskin and squeezing slightly. He grins as he feels is harden further under his fingers, and Elias's strokes finally stutter against Martin's clit. 

"It's nice," he says. 

"I know," Jon says. "It feels really good inside you, too." He wriggles against Martin's back. "It's a little unfortunate to say, but I think he fucked the humanity out of me. It felt very nice."

"Why?"

Martin asks this absently, his focus more on rubbing his thumb against Elias's glans than his own words, so he only feels the power behind them when Jon gasps and Elias's hips stutter.

"Oh," Jon says. "Martin. You're ours after all."

"What?" Martin stills. His skin feels too tight. What is that supposed to  _ mean _ . He's Lonely. He...

No. No thinking about that now, not when he's trying to decide whether he wants to guide Elias's cock inside him or take the whole length in his mouth.

"I didn't have to pretend anymore," Jon says. "Guilt is so difficult and useless. Instead I am... pleased. And full. And  _ healthy _ ." He giggles. "I forgot how it feels not to feel pain."

He bites down on Martin's shoulder. Expecting a love bite, Martin doesn't think much of it until he feels teeth breaking his skin.

Elias uses his distraction to pull his hand away and presses his cock more directly between Martin's leg, not quite inside him but just very present.

"Jon!" Martin gasps. "What are you doing?"

Jon pulls his mouth away, pressing his fingers into the teeth marks, a low moan escaping his lips. "Keep asking questions," he begs. "It's..." Eyes blink open on the hand Martin can see, and Jon moves it over to Elias's dick. "I'm seeing if I can make you See."

Martin lets out a shuddering gasp as the break in his shoulder bulges outwards, crescent shaped mark fluttering into an upper lid. "I can't--" He tries. He moans desperately when Jon presses his mouth to the developing eye. "I don't understand.".

"You were ours first," Jon says. "If Peter wants you, he can claim you."

Martin lets himself shiver imagining what exactly that might entail. "Oh..."

The eye shuts. Jon lets out an almost birdlike noise of disappointment. 

Elias's cock between his legs is unbearable. Martin grabs his hips, careful not to press too hard with his thumbs, and takes it into his mouth after scooting back a little.

Jon's fingers are cold when they press against Martin's clit, and that's where his mind finally shuts off. 

When Elias comes, Martin pulls away, leaving him to come on his stomach. His own orgasm crashes over him soon after, and he falls forward. 

"Oh," he says, feeling Elias's still softening cock between his legs. Through a somewhat hectic rearrangement of limbs, they wind up cuddled in the floor, Martin in the middle. "Thank you."

Elias pets his hair. "Of course," he says. "I take care of what's mine. 

**Author's Note:**

> The eye fucking is a metaphor for Jon accepting the Eye into himself.


End file.
